


You Can Be My Doctor

by mirror_cannibal, NiteOwel



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Fluff and Angst, Injury, Kissing, M/M, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 18:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9915527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirror_cannibal/pseuds/mirror_cannibal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiteOwel/pseuds/NiteOwel
Summary: “Victor!” Yuri yelled, his stomach dropping as he watched the Russian’s control waver in the middle of the third spin, causing him to lose his composure and begin to fall. It seemed so impossible that the silver-haired man could ever make a mistake, could ever get hurt, that for a moment Yuri didn’t believe what he’d seen. But he had seen it―and there was Victor as proof, his figure falling through the air and smacking into the ice, where it sprawled, motionless.





	

Yuri found his eyes relaxing from fatigue and his gaze drifting, following the graceful movements of his coach’s limbs as they flowed through the air, creating beautiful arcs as he twisted his tall, slender body across the ice. It was the last day of a hard week’s training, and Yuri could feel all of his muscles aching from the strain as he stood. The movements of his fiance suddenly stopped, cutting off along with the familiar scratch as Victor’s ice skates slid across the ice, bringing him to a halt and Yuri back to focus. 

“Yuri, are you paying attention?” the gray-haired Russian called out, his melodic voice drifting across the space of cold ice that separated the two.

“Y-Yes!” Yuri hurriedly answered, blinking sleep from his eyes.

“So?” Victor cocked his head to the side, raising a single thoughtful finger to his lips as he gave Yuri a questioning gaze. “Do you think you can skate that?” Yuri shifted his weight, sliding the metal blades of his skates across the ice beneath him.

“Um...could I see it one more time, please?” he asked tentatively. It was easy to get lost in watching the taller skater dance across the ice, and Yuri often found himself forgetting to pay attention to the choreography. 

Victor laughed, the music behind the sound squeezing Yuri’s heart. 

“Yes, yes,” the coach called out, waving a hand dismissively. “Last time, ok? Then I’m expecting to see something from you.” Yuri nodded, determined to focus on the routine this time. Turning his back, Victor felt a smile twitching at his own lips, knowing that Yuri’s exhaustion and previous inability to focus would persist throughout the session. _It’s kinda cute,_ he thought to himself, _but maybe I should find a way to wake him up._

Yuri leaned against the wall of the rink as Victor began to skate the program once more. Before he knew it, Yuri could feel his attention slipping away and his eyes began to once again follow the smallest details within the way Victor moved across the ice. The way he would tilt his head against any turns, to keep the silvery hair from falling over his face. The way he would sway his hips―just a little―after landing a jump, to regain his balance. The way he would move his fingers languidly through the air, in such graceful little arcs. 

Yuri found his breath caught in his throat as he watched Victor bend his knees slightly before snapping into a jump with one spin, two spins, thr―

“Victor!” Yuri yelled, his stomach dropping as he watched the Russian’s control waver in the middle of the third spin, causing him to lose his composure and begin to fall. It seemed so impossible that the silver-haired man could ever make a mistake, could ever get hurt, that for a moment Yuri didn’t believe what he’d seen. But he had seen it―and there was Victor as proof, his figure falling through the air and smacking into the ice, where it sprawled, motionless. 

_“Victor!”_ Yuri called out again in a panic, even as he was already moving, his skates barely skimming the surface of the ice as he flew across the rink. Victor was lying in the center, his long limbs limp and his silvery hair fallen over his face. Panting, Yuri slid to his knees beside his partner. “Are you ok?” he asked frantically, the panic rising in his chest when he saw that the Russian’s eyes were closed. _What do I do, what do I do?_ Yuri put a hand on Victor’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. “Victor?” he repeated, the terror clutching at his throat and clouding his head until he couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

Victor’s crystalline eyes cracked open beneath the veil of feather-light hair, and a soft smirk pulled at his lips. “Just making sure you were paying attention,” he lilted, laughter in his eyes. 

Yuri slumped, letting out a deep breath, his head falling to his chest dramatically. “I thought you were dead,” the raven moaned, not releasing his grip on Victor’s shoulder and instead shoving him testily onto his back. “You really scared me.” 

Victor let out another soft laugh, but he felt concern bubbling up in his chest, tightening around his throat when he caught the look in Yuri’s eyes. _He actually looks really scared..._ A vague feeling of regret was aching at the back of his mind. As he made to push himself up, a sudden pain shot through his forearm and he gasped in surprise. 

“What is it?” Yuri immediately looked down to see Victor cradling one wrist in a delicate hold against his chest. 

“I mean, I _did_ mean to just make sure you were paying attention,” the silver-haired man half-laughed, the initially light-hearted tone drying out on his tongue, “But I think I might have landed wrong.” 

Almost instantly, the anxiety was back, tightening Yuri’s chest. “What?” The word flew from his throat, a ring of panic clear behind the single syllable. He nearly choked on his next words, and they were almost out of his mouth when Victor spoke again.

“It’s not that bad―see?” He wriggled the fingers of his injured hand, a forced smile on his face. “It’s not broken, I can tell. I’m ok.” 

Yuri could feel his own breath speeding up, his gaze feverishly darting from Victor's wrist―which was held gingerly yet protectively in his other hand―and the tight, forced smile on the gray-haired man's face. There was a spark of something―was it pain?―behind Victor's clear blue eyes, though the idea of seeing pain reflected in those crystalline depths seemed so outlandish to Yuri that he could scarcely believe it was really there. “What do I do?” he asked, the uncertainty all too clear in his voice. _What good am I being right now?_

Keeping his injured wrist laying across his chest, Victor moved his good hand from Yuri’s cheek to his shoulder. Yuri felt the Russian’s touch slide down his arm, until the long, slender fingers―covered in a black glove still cold from the ice―wrapped around Yuri’s own hand. “Help me up,” Victor said with a pained grin, his words choppy and forced. With a nervous nod, Yuri adjusted and tightened his grip on Victor’s hand, while moving his other hand to support his coach’s back. Victor counted softly, “One, two...three!”

Yuri pulled Victor into a sitting position, immediately freezing when he heard the Russian suck in a sharp breath from the movement. “Are you ok?” Yuri asked immediately, his voice tight with panic. 

“Fine, fine,” Victor readily replied, though his words were almost as tight as Yuri’s. “I can get up.” With a nervous breath, Yuri got to his feet, preparing to give his fiance another pull up from the ice.

Victor took Yuri’s outstretched hand, giving the raven an I’m-ready nod, but Yuri hesitated. “Victor...” He spoke softly, tentatively. “Are you sure you’re ok? You don’t want to wait for help?”

“You are helping me,” Victor grinned back, the light of amusement never leaving those beautiful eyes. 

“Your…” Yuri tightened his grip around Victor’s gloved fingers, feeling them trembling slightly in his grip. “Your hands are shaking.”

Victor let out a breath, which―knowing Victor―was probably meant to pass for a laugh, but it came out as shaky and uncertain as the hand which Yuri was holding. “I’m fine,” Victor repeated, his voice soft. _If it were any louder,_ Yuri thought to himself, _would I hear the shakiness in that, too?_

“Victor…” Yuri said uncertainly, his voice wavering. _What if I do something wrong? What if I hurt him more? What if he falls again, and it’s my fault?_ He heard Victor let out another shaky exhale, though this time it sounded closer to real laughter. It almost seemed as though it were a response to Yuri’s thoughts.

“Just pull me up,” the Russian said with a strained smile, readjusting his grip in Yuri’s hand and tightening his trembling fingers. “I’ll be fine.” Yuri cast another unsure glance at the injured wrist, which was still being held against Victor’s chest. The hand was covered in its black glove, and the sleeve of Victor’s jacket concealed the wrist itself from sight, but from the way his silver-haired coach was treating it Yuri knew it had to be bad. Is it broken? he thought, with another burst of alarm rushing through him.

“Yuri!” The Russian’s voice was sharper this time. 

“M-maybe I should go get help after all…” Yuri relaxed his trembling hand and slipped it from Victor’s grip, sliding his skates along the ice to back him away from the injured man. “I’ll probably just hurt you more, Victor, I really don't―”

With a burst of frustration, Victor heaved himself upwards and grabbed his partner’s wrist, yanking him towards the ground until their faces were just centimeters apart. His eyes were hard, but beneath them a crystalline layer of fear pierced through and hit Yuri like a wave in rough surf. _He’s scared._ With all his laughing, Victor was just as scared as Yuri―if not more. 

“Yuri. You won't hurt me. I trust you. You need to trust yourself.” The words were low, but they were enough to snap Yuri out of his own head. 

“I―You're right. I'm sorry Victor. Here, let me―” He took a breath, snaking his arm around that of his coach to grip his elbow, fingertips digging into the fabric of his sleeve. With his free hand, the raven brushed a few silvery strands of hair from Victor’s nervous eyes, then placed his fingers tentatively around the coach’s waist. Yuri angled the toe of his skate into the ice, preparing himself to pull the Russian to his feet. 

Before he made another move, Yuri locked eyes with Victor once more. “Ready?” he breathed, anxiety weighing on the word. Victor gave a single, terse nod. In one motion Yuri heaved his own body upwards, carrying Victor’s weight with him. It was a quick arc of movement which seemed to go by too fast yet too slow, and yet it was over in less than a second. Yuri’s grip was still tight on his coach, and their nervous breaths mixed together in a cloud of fog that puffed in front of their faces before dissipating into a patch of morning light streaming through a window.

They stood like that for a second, allowing Yuri time to get a clear look at his injured coach. It wasn't as apparent when he was crumpled on the ice, but standing up Yuri could now see and feel the silver-haired man’s tumble of emotions, his slim body trembling slightly with both pain and relief. Victor tried to let out a laugh, but to his friend it sounded more like a sob. Upon closer inspection, Yuri realized Victor’s eyes were glistening unnaturally with unshed tears. 

“Thank you,” the Russian breathed, dropping his gaze from Yuri’s and turning it instead towards the door in the fence of the rink. 

“Victor,” the shorter male mumbled back, feeling as if he had to say something to this new, diffident side of his partner, “It’s...it's okay not to be okay.” He draped his friend's good arm across his back and slipped a hand around his waist, supporting him as they began to slowly pick their way towards the exit. 

“I'm fine. I'm okay. I just hurt my wrist. I'm―” Victor grimaced suddenly, cutting himself off by dropping his head and gritting his teeth. One silvery tear slid down his porcelain cheek and dipped off his chin to land on the ice, almost escaping Yuri’s notice. No more followed it, but the raven got the message. 

“Just a little more and you'll be okay. We'll get you some help soon, I promise. Do you want me to yell for someone?” The initial panic of discovering Victor’s injury was beginning to wear off for Yuri, though he suspected his coach might be taking it a bit differently. _I need to be calm for him. I can be calm for him. I will be calm for him._

The older male shook his head. “No, no it's fine. We're already here, anyway.” 

Yuri shot him a skeptical look as they stepped off the ice, but said no more. Carefully, the two made their way over to the closest bench, where Yuri helped Victor to sit down gently on the cold metal, before sitting beside him to take a breather. “Ok,” he murmured softly to himself, bending down to quickly untie his own skates. He shot another sideways glance at Victor, who was leaning his head back and holding his injured wrist to his chest still, breathing slowly through his nose.

Once Yuri’s skates were off, he pushed them to the side and maneuvered himself to the ground, kneeling before Victor and beginning to untie the Russian’s skates. _Thank God he didn't hurt his foot, or we would've had a much bigger issue getting him off the ice,_ Yuri mused, guiding the laces apart and sliding the skate off his friend’s foot. The next one came off just as quickly, and all the while Yuri listened as Victor calmed himself down, his breathing becoming more and more steady, until his even inhales and exhales matched those of the younger man’s.

With a breath of finality, Yuri removed the second skate easily and laid it aside, then stood up to meet Victor’s gaze. Gingerly, he reached down to touch the other man’s injured wrist and brought it close to his eyes to better see the injury. After slowly rolling the sleeve down Victor’s forearm, Yuri folded the hem of the slim black glove back and back on itself, until the wrist was fully exposed. To his dismay, the skin around the bone was already turning a deep shade of purple, and had swollen way beyond normal. Victor’s already pale face turned ashen at the sight, and as Yuri looked up he could see his beloved coach grit his teeth as two more tears went streaming down his cheek. 

Instinctively, Yuri bent forwards and reached out with his free hand to gently brush away the silvery strands of hair that covered Victor’s eyes. Slowly, his thumb made its way from the side of his nose across his pale face, tracing along the other man’s cheekbones and wiping away the salty tears that rolled down his face. The two skaters’ eyes met, and both smiled in a wry, constrained sort of way. In a voice barely above a whisper, Victor asked, “Can you make it better?”

Yuri smiled teasingly, and dropped slowly to one knee while bringing the injured hand to his lips. Leaning his body against the strong legs of his coach, Yuri let his eyes drop, and tenderly kissed the back of the slender, partially-gloved hand, just above the bruise. When his eyes finally rose again, he found the mesmerising blue gaze of his coach pouring over him until nothing else in the room has any relevance except for them. 

Blood rushed up the raven’s neck and sprung into his cheeks. Victor’s uninjured hand wrapped around the back of Yuri’s neck and tugged him forward until their faces were mere millimeters apart. For a half-second they both hesitated, drowning in the depths each other’s gazes while their breaths mixed together in the cold air of the rink. Victor let out a breathless laugh and tilted his chin, bringing his lips up to softly meet Yuri’s.

Yuri placed one hand on the Russian’s waist and laced the fingers of his other hand through the light silvery hair, pressing his lips softly against Victor’s. The kiss was soft and sweet, and Yuri pulled back slightly to breathe out, “Feel better yet?”

“Not yet,” Victor murmured back, and Yuri felt the tug of fingers in his own hair as he was being pulled back into the kiss once more, losing himself in the warmth of his fiance’s touch. His hand slid slowly up Victor’s torso to rest against his strong chest, deepening the kiss. 

Just as he felt the other man’s slender hand slide down from his hair to cup his cheek, the door to the rink slammed open and banged against the opposite wall. 

“Victor!” an angry Russian voice spat out, the sound reverberating throughout the icy rink. Yuri and Victor pulled apart quickly, Yuri’s cheeks hot with embarrassment and his partner adopting a frown for having been interrupted. 

“Yurio, what is it?” Victor called out, sitting up straighter and losing his grip on the other man. 

“Where are the spare laces?” the younger skater demanded, stalking towards the couple. “And what are you two doing? You’re supposed to be practicing.”

“Victor got hurt,” Yuri explained, standing up to face him. The younger boy looked questioningly at Victor, who seemed to have almost forgotten the pain in his wrist. The coach opened his mouth to speak while mindlessly placing his injured hand on the bench to support himself in getting up, but all that came out was a pained gasp, and he collapsed back onto the metal, grabbing the injury. 

Yuri spun back towards Victor at his soft sound of pain, but Yurio just rolled his eyes and scowled. “Baka! It better not be bad, or Yakov will give you hell,” he muttered.

In a strained voice, Victor muttered, “Yakov will give me hell regardless.” 

“If you want spare laces,” Yuri offered distractedly, his concerned gaze still fixated on Victor’s face, “Mila might have some.” Yurio rolled his eyes and mumbled some half-coherent response, turning on his heel and stomping away from the rink. 

Yuri turned his gaze back to his injured partner, who was once again gently cradling his hurt wrist. Their eyes met for a second, then they both let out soft chuckles at the interruption. Yuri leaned over to grab their shoes and a roll of tape from his bag, putting his on first, then those of his coach. Victor breathed patiently as the raven tied his shoelaces. 

“Here―” Yuri said, holding his non-dominant hand out palm-up to receive Victor’s injured one, then proceeded to delicately wrap the bandage around his wrist and set the injury in place. The silver-haired man gazed at him gratefully, while the raven explained, “I used to practice alone a lot, so I had to learn how to deal with injuries by myself.” 

Victor’s eyes lit up lovingly, a laugh bubbling out from his chest and dancing through the still air. “Thank you,” he said softly, the gentle smile on his lips making Yuri wish he could lean in again and close the gap between them. 

The younger skater dropped his focus to Victor’s wrist again, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks and not wanting Victor to see him blush. “It’s no problem,” he mumbled from behind a smile. “Though I think it’s time we get you to a doctor.” 

“You can be my doctor,” Victor joked, the familiar laughter dancing in his eyes again. Yuri mirrored the smile, helping Victor to his feet. 

“Ok, Victor,” Yuri murmured in mock-seriousness, letting the Russian lean his head against the younger skater’s shoulder as they walked to the exit. Yuri slid his hand down, taking his fiance’s uninjured hand in his own, weaving their fingers together. “I’ll be whoever you need.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the stuff that we like wrote and stuff


End file.
